Constricting then Bursting
by WhippedByAnAngel
Summary: Castiel thinks he's already a happy man. However, his chest, yes, the part of the human body enclosed by the ribs and sternum, begs to differ. I'd like to think this is a fluff. DeanxCas. AU. Oneshot.


_I was in class. And this just sort of happened. Hello to everyone._

_Belated Happy Birthday, Dean Winchester!_

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, then I don't own it.

* * *

**_Constricting then Bursting_**

* * *

Castiel is kind of an asshole.

He is a social recluse who wants his groceries delivered, mail slipped under his door and phone calls diverted to, he believes, his much more socially adept brother.

His morning routine consists of taking a shower for exactly 15 minutes, petting Nicholas Flamel for two minutes by his ears and five on his belly. After that, he goes straight to his laptop, plugs in his hard drive, and just works the day off.

People think he is lonely but Castiel believes, no, _knows_, that he is far from it. As far as he's concerned, there is no proverbial hole to be filled in his life or an ache to ease. Not that he was some kind of an antagonist who hated love. No. As a writer, he has to know love, needs to revel in it because it's half of what he writes about. Of what he sells. Castiel really just didn't find the need for it. As long as his needs are satisfied, Castiel Novak is already a happy man.

That goes without saying that Castiel has frie—_a_ friend. His needs, even the social one, are fulfilled after all. Standing 6'1 tall, has dirty blond hair and a God-given smile is Dean Winchester, Castiel's childhood and only friend.

His constant school partner, problem solver, fuck buddy and probably the reason why Castiel didn't find the need for affection, not that he realizes it yet.

Castiel admits that Dean Winchester is very special to him. They've been together, as friends of course, through thick and thin. In fact, Castiel, crowd-hater, constant sufferer of foot-_in_-mouth disease and I'm-holier-than-thou douchebag, has agreed to pick Dean up from the airport, the latter coming home from a business trip.

ETA was 10:00 a.m.

It is now 11:03 a.m. and Castiel is still typing away.

See? _Douchebag._

* * *

Dean sighs and checks his watch for the umpteenth time. He is hungry, tired, and not to mention, fucking queasy because he _hated_ flying. And Castiel wasn't—isn't—still here.

Yeah, life sort of sucks when your best friend is an obnoxious asshole.

He shamelessly pats his jean-cladded behind for his phone and decides it's time to call the son of a bitch who most probably forgot about him.

Sometimes, Dean asks himself why he even bothers.

"_One question, is _it_ big_?"

Dean sighs. _Of course. _"Hey, Gabe."

"_Gabriel is not my beauti—woah, Dean-o?_"

"One and only."

Dean hears shuffling. "_You've been friends with my beloved little brother for years—years, and you still forget he's socially constipated to answer a phone?_"

Dean gives a dry chuckle. "A man can dream."

A group of chattering women passes by him, their voices coming to a stop as they spot him. Dean doesn't even bother to be flattered, just standing there and ignoring their furtive glances.

"_So, what did you need? Pretty noisy over there, huh?" _There are sounds of sucking coming from Gabriel's side and Dean wishes with all his heart that it's just candy.

"I'm at the airport."

There is nothing but silence for a while. "_Shit._" Gabriel curses, knowing exactly what's up._ "I'm sorry, man. Geez, that guy, seriously. Sammy boy can't pick you up?"_

Dean shakes his head—then realizes that Gabriel couldn't see him. "Dude has a hearing. His client decided to plead not guilty."

Gabriel tuts. _"Want _me_ to pick you up?"_

Dean thinks about it. "Nah. Don't stress yourself. 'm just gonna call a cab. God, I'm tired."

"_Christ, Dean-o, not everyone wants to hear your se—" _Dean cuts the call without hesitation, takes off his battered wristwatch, and shoves it and his phone in his front pocket.

* * *

Castiel hears knocking from the door and he huffs in irritation.

"Nicholas, come here, boy," He calls without taking his eyes off the monitor. He lowers his hand and snaps his fingers in a familiar rhythm distractedly. A soft padding off paws is heard and his faithful Golden Retriever is beside him.

Castiel continues his work. Nicholas Flamel sits by his side, his tongue sticking out as the dog patiently waits for his mater's orders. A second set of knocking is heard, much louder than the previous one.

"Nicholas, go check who's by the door." He motions to the dog. Nicholas leaves his side then shortly returns with a battered old watch dangling from his mouth.

Castiel snatches the watch from his dog's jaws and spares the wet object a glance.

He freezes.

12:08 p.m.

"Fuck."

.**.**.

Dean stares at the closed door, his free hand slick with dog saliva. 408. A few more seconds of staring and it's finally being pushed open.

The sight of a bare-footed, untrimmed-hair, unshaven Castiel in a white plain tee and sweatpants greets him.

Without waiting for his friend to say anything, he walks in and hurls his bag at the direction of the couch.

"Dean, I—"

He turns around and raises a finger to silence the Novak. "I need sleep. _I'm going to sleep. _Wake me up when your work's done."

Castiel shuts his mouth close and nods in understanding.

Dean goes straight to the bedroom and throws himself on the king-sized bed. Castiel closes the door, his hand going up to rub soothing circles on his chest while he pats Nicholas on the head.

He goes back to work.

.**.**.

Castiel wakes Dean up around 6:30 in the evening. He nudges the man gently, sitting on the other side of the bed.

"Dean. Dean." He whispers in the dark.

The mattress shifts. "…mmm, Cas?"

"Yes." The said man places his hand on Dean's hairline. "I'm done for today."

"…time is it?" The Winchester asks groggily.

"Six-thirty. I ordered Chinese."

Dean pushes himself up by his elbows and wipes the sleep off his face.

"Hmm, that's early… Why are you early?" He asks, pulling Castiel close.

Castiel lets him, setting his head at the nape of his neck. "I need to make amends."

Dean wraps his arms around him, breathing in the scent of his friend. "You said you were going to fetch me."

"I lost track of—"

"Pffft," Dean scoffs, tilting his head away. "Cas, you barely look civil and you're really expecting me to believe you would go out knowing people can see you like that? _You?_"

"I don't care what people think." Castiel mumbles defiantly.

_"Uh-huh."_

He looks up at him, apologetic, his vivid blue eyes noticeable even in the dark. "I promised I'd pick you up."

"But you didn't." Dean reminds him.

"I'm sorry."

Dean merely shakes his head and proceeds to cup his face and meld their lips together.

The kiss quickly turns heated, tongues desperately exploring each other's wet orifice. The interaction is so familiar and yet nothing of it feels like a routine. Castiel's hands wind up on Dean's hair and he pulls. Dean releases a guttural groan, pulling Castiel flush against his body.

"Cas, missed you, missed this." He murmurs before dipping to kiss the man again. Castiel's only answer is pulling harder.

Dean maneuvers them so that he was now on top of the man. He places both his hands on the curve of Castiel's ass and grinds their hips together. The friction between his jeans against Castiel's sweatpants is not exactly pleasant so his mind helpfully supplies the need for nakedness.

Just when he is unbuckling his belt, there is a knock on the door and Nicholas' barks are heard all throughout the unit.

Both of them still.

Dean groans, disentangling himself from Castiel. He wipes a hand over his face in frustration. Castiel only looks at him wide-eyed, his brain not quite back in its proper place yet.

"Fucking Chinese." He mutters under his breath before standing up to answer the door, leaving Castiel, still dazed, alone in the bedroom. "Fucking Asian cockblock."

He grabs the big dog on his way to hide his obvious erection.

Kevin, the delivery boy, notices anyway.

.**.**.

They are eating in the kitchen, Castiel adamant not to get even a grain of food on his bed. Nicholas walks to Dean and lies beside his feet. Dean smiles at the dog and rubs him behind his ear.

"You know, it's still a wonder to me how opposite you and your dog are." He says, grinning down at the dog that made himself comfortable beside his chair.

Castiel snorts beside him. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You better not. Your dog is a freaking saint."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Castiel deadpans. "Why don't I go and leave you two to yourselves?"

"Hey," Dean warns over his shoulder. "I'm still pissed, you know."

"I apologized." Castiel says defensively.

"Doesn't change the fact that you made me stand like a monkey in a zoo for an hour." Dean shrugs. He shoves another spoonful of flavored rice in his mouth.

"I saw Lisa there, in California." Dean says casually.

Castiel stops eating at the mention of Dean's ex. He places a palm over his chest, looking at it with a frown. "You did? How is she?"

"She's fine. Looking great, actually. The sun suits her." Dean tells him as he continues eating, oblivious to the sudden change in his friend.

"Oh. That's good. Are you—are you two back together?" He looks at his chest again with a grimace.

Dean turns around and arches an eyebrow at Castiel. "What made you say that?"

Castiel shrugs.

"You okay?" Dean asks him in concern as he sees his expression. Castiel merely nods. "Okay…We're not, to answer your weird-ass question. We just met over a few drinks, maybe once or twice a week. You knew how things went down with us, Cas." Dean shakes his head. "There's no coming back from that."

"You can't know that." Castiel says quietly, his food left forgotten on the table.

Dean's mouth quirks in uncertainty, his eyes unusually fixated with his empty take-out box. "Maybe I don't."

He lifts his eyes to look at Castiel and still finds him with that frown on his face, his palms now pressed firmly on his lap.

Dean takes one hand between his. "Hey, you're sweating. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." Castiel replies in a rougher-than-usual voice.

Dean looks at him skeptically. "But you're—?"

"I said I'm fine, Dean!" Castiel snaps, retracting his hand sharply and looking away.

"Hey, what's with that? I was just worried," Dean argues without heat.

"Nothing." Castiel mutters. "You should leave."

"_What?" _Deans asks disbelievingly. "_Leave?_"

"You heard me," Castiel answers. "I said you should _leave._"

Dean ignores the finality in the Castiel's tone. _"Why? _What did I do?"

"Just—_please_." And fuck, that voice gets him every damn time.

"Fine." He settles, abruptly standing up, startling Nicholas. "Fucking fantastic."

He strides to the living room, grabs his bag on the couch and carelessly slings it over his shoulder. He stomps his way towards the door, wrenches it open and slams it close.

Nicholas barks after him.

Castiel releases a shaky breath from his seat and looks at the dog sadly. "I think there's something wrong with me, Nicholas."

* * *

Dean was brooding in his kitchen, still sulking over Castiel and his pert ass (as if getting drunk wasn't enough), when the landline rings.

His lips purses as he stares at the device, thinking it might be, for once, Castiel. He shakes his head at the ridiculousness of the idea. For all he knows, it's just probably someone from work. Someone idiotic enough to not listen to him when he said not to fucking call him in this particular weekend. He planned on spending said weekend with Cas, and, well, that played out rather spectacularly.

He answers it anyway. "Dean Winchester. Who's this?"

"_So, Dean-o. Do you know why Castiel suddenly asked for an appointment with Michael?"_

"Sorry, who?" Dean rolls the name over his head and nothing comes up.

"_This is Gabriel. I'm wonderi—"_

"Who the hell is Michael?" He demands, something unpleasant settling in his stomach just at the thought of another angel-named dick. As if two wasn't enough.

"_Family doctor." _Gabriel supplies easily.

"Jesus," Dean exclaims. "You guys have a family doctor?"

Gabriel laughs. _"He's our brother too." _

"What?!" He barks. "How come Cas _never_ told me about him?"

"_What are you his keeper? Oh wait, that's exactly what you are." _Gabriel teases him.

Dean couldn't fight the blush creeping up his cheeks. "That's not... not what I—"

"_Don't get your panties in a twist, Dean-o. Michael's a step-brother. Knowing Cassie, you should be glad he even told you about moi."_

"Whatever." He dismisses the topic, much more interested in finding out why Castiel would go to a doctor. He wasn't sick when he last saw him—and that was just last night. He was sweating a little but, overall, he seemed fine. He didn't peg the man as a klutz either so… "Why the hell is Cas going to your family-doctor-slash-brother?"

"_I called and asked if you knew, remember? Find it out, Dean-o. Cassie rarely leaves his place and he absolutely abhors hospitals… that much I know. It doesn't add up." _

"We aren't exactly best of buds at the moment…" Dean sighs, reminded of their sudden dispute.

"_Oh come on, like that has ever stopped you before."_

* * *

Castiel isn't surprised to find Dean outside his step-brother's clinic, waiting. He wouldn't be surprised as well if Gabriel was the one to tip him off. He had a meddlesome family after all.

Nonetheless, it is welcomed.

He walks towards the businessman and stops short when he is inches away from him.

"Hello, Dean." He greets the man with a smile.

"Hey, Cas." Dean greets back, running his eyes all over Castiel with concern. A look of relief passes his face when he figures out that nothing was wrong with the guy. His green orbs meet blue. "What are you doing here?"

"I should be the one asking you that, Dean." Castiel chides although his smile is still intact.

Dean scratches the back of his head, a sheepish smile on his face. "I was just worried, Cas. Gabriel called and told me." He pauses and then considers his best friend carefully, clearly wanting to say something more.

"And?" Castiel tilts his head in confusion, egging the taller man to speak his mind.

"'m sorry, Cas. Whatever I said last night, I'm sorry."

Cas' eyes widen and he shakes his head, raising a hand to touch Dean by his arm. "No, Dean. It's not your fault. It's mine—I was, I was _scared_. But I'm not anymore. I checked with Michael and he told me that I'm not, in any way, _dying_."

Dean frowns. "What? You thought you were _dying_? What the hell made you think so?"

For the first time in Dean's life, he sees Castiel flush under broad daylight because of something that has nothing to do with sex.

"Cas?"

"Lately, there has been a constant squeeze in my chest. I don't know what triggers it, and Michael doesn't as well, but he assured me it was nothing life threatening and that I am perfectly healthy. I _thought_ I was dying." He frowns to himself then lifts his head to look at Dean in the eye. "I was scared and I pushed you away. I'm sorry."

Dean opens his mouth only to close it, a sudden brick of realization hitting him, leaving him dumbfounded. Dread starts filling him fast.

"Dean?" It's Castiel's turn to call his attention.

Dean clears his throat. "You said—you said your chest constricts and you don't know why, right?" He looks at Castiel for confirmation. Castiel nods. "Do you remember when it last happened?"

Castiel nods again. "Last night, when you suddenly mentioned Lisa. It felt like my chest was caving in."

Dean stops to process this. _Oh. Oh._ He couldn't stop the smile breaking from his face. "Yeah? Do you, uh, remember when those, uhm, chest thingies started?"

"No—not exactly. I admit it's been happening for some time now, and now that I am trying to remember every episode, you always seem to be—" Castiel stops and frowns at him in confusion. "Why are you smiling? Dean, I hardly think my situation—"

Dean doesn't even let him finish, deciding the youngest Novak has been talking too much, and that it's time to put his mouth to a different use. He pulls him into an oxygen-restricting kiss, momentarily forgetting that they are out in the open, where anyone can see _and _in front of Castiel's _step-brother_'s clinic.

"W-what was that for?"

"I know what your problem is." Dean smiles at him widely.

"You do?" Castiel looks at him dubiously.

"Yes." He smiles softly at the smaller man.

The way Dean is looking at him now, that radiant smile, sends him into another episode of chest constrictions and he looks up at him in wonder.

It finally hits him and he feels stupid for not realizing it sooner. He should have seen this from afar. He was a writer after all.

His pupil dilates and moving closer, licking his lips, he whispers, "What is it?"

"You love me." Dean tells him confidently, pulling him in by the waist.

Castiel swallows. "I do?"

Dean simply captures his lips again in a chaste kiss. "See?"

True enough, it stops.

The ache is soothed, the hole is filled and everything he thought he's figured out about his life crumbles to the ground.

In the background, unbeknownst to the best-friends-now-turned-boyfriends absorbed in each other, a disgruntled step-brother-slash-family-doctor shuts the curtain in annoyance. _Really?_ Did it have to be_ in front_ of his clinic?

* * *

So Castiel is still kind of an asshole.

He is a social recluse who lets his boyfriend do their groceries alone, makes him get his fan mail as well and once in a while, even asks him to answer them, but his phone calls are no longer diverted to, to his big surprise, his actually not so socially adept brother. (Dean told him how Gabriel answered his call and for a moment, Castiel imagines with horror what his potential publishers were being subjected to.)

His morning routine consists of taking a shower for 15 minutes (or longer if his beau joins him), and they stay in bed far longer than the time spent in the shower, continuing eagerly their strenuous activities, well, until Nicholas comes between them, demanding his daily petting.

"Two minutes behind the ears," Castiel seriously tells a very naked Dean Winchester who smiles fondly at him.

"And five on the belly, right?" Dean continues for him, laughing as Nicholas Flamel squirms happily between them. "Damn, he's getting his fur all over us."

"Ssssh, let the alchemist do what he has to do."

"You nerd." Dean moves over Nicholas to kiss Castiel on the lips. The writer smiles into the kiss, absently placing a hand on his chest. His chest no longer feels like it's caving in, far from it actually. If he's honest, it actually feels like his chest is about to _burst. _

But he no longer needs Michael's diagnosis for that.

People think he's happy now.

And for once, they got it right.

_Fin_


End file.
